Cthulhu Gonfalon

Wine is a good thing and it is of great help to enhance the atmosphere of emotional mediation.

The premise is, don't drink too much.

The elder dwarf has a very handy magical item, a jug. This jug is a silver flat pot that looks unusually delicate and gorgeous. It has a delicate line that contrasts with the dwarf's aesthetic. If you look closely, you can see that it is not drawn with paint, but with countless Small stones are inlaid. Anyone with a little bit of vision can see that it is a beautiful piece of art; people with more artistic knowledge can also see it with a distinctive elf style; as for experts who study the elf culture, After careful study, it is judged that it is not the style of the contemporary elf, but the style of the ancient elf kingdom.

In fact, it is not an ordinary jug, but an extraordinary treasure.

Its name is "endless hip flask."

This name is enough to illustrate the problem, and each time it consumes the magic of a low-level spell, it can make some wine. If it is fine wine, it can be made about one kilogram; ordinary sweet wine or spirits, about three pounds; foamed ale or ordinary bad wine, can reach five pounds.

Masters familiar with enchantment spells and making magical items may know that there is a magic item called "Endless Kettle." This endless wine jug is something similar to it, but the efficiency of producing wine can be much slower than the production of water, after all, the level of detail of the two things is completely incomparable.

The elder dwarf is not a very powerful caster, but with his magic power, it is enough to pour out enough spirits in the jug, at least... enough for the entire exploration team to drink.

In fact, more than enough.

If it’s not a few of Hopes’s or a few people who don’t drink alcohol, or who are clever enough to drink the first cup, they’re still awake, maybe the first day of the joint exploration team’s arrival on the camp will be because of the whole Drunk and sleep, and freeze to death.

Fortunately, after all, there are still a few awake people.

Hops, who had a little bit of wine and a reddish face, took a few people who didn’t drink, dragged those drunken guys into the tent one by one, threw the bed with thick hay underneath, and used it again. Cover the quilt. Although everyone alone is not heavy, the entire joint exploration team has hundreds of people, and now they all drink.

So, when the last drunk cat was dragged into the tent and covered with a quilt, everyone else was exhausted except for Hopes.

"Resting, rest! Everyone should take a break!" Hopps waved his hand and let everyone go to rest. He came to the huge bonfire in the middle of the camp and watched the flames burning with magical power, feeling the flames. The warmth from above, sighed softly.

"The first day was so noisy, I don't know what will happen in the future?"

On this cold winter night, he is not the only one who sighs so much.

About two thousand miles to the south, some people are issuing similar sighs on the "border line" where the merchants and aristocrats are intertwined.

"The first day was so troublesome, how can I get it later!"

What made such a sigh was a middle-aged man with a white hair and a half-length. He wore a light-weight leather armor and carried the same convenient scimitar. No matter whether the leather armor or the scimitar is dark, there is almost no way to distinguish it in this dark night. The only thing that can be seen faintly is the white hair on his head.

In his vicinity, there are many people who are also wearing black leather armor and holding various blackened weapons. They even wrap their heads in black hoods and look like they are all shadows that move freely.

Gloomy, horrible, full of death.

In fact, what they do is indeed bringing death.

At their feet, an aristocratic patrol lay down on the ground, and each person had more than one wound, even the smallest and shallowest wound was fatal.

There is no doubt that this group of patrols are already dead. Many of them still have a look of surprise and surprise on their faces. It can be seen that they have been suddenly attacked and even sent their lives without even having to react.

"Check it again." After the middle-aged man lamented, he said in a toneless voice, "Make sure there is no living."

So the black people who were hiding in the shadows waved their weapons, and at least two wounds were added to the body of each patrol to make the living person a dead person.

The middle-aged man looked at it with satisfaction, then waved his hand and walked into the night with this group of people, and soon disappeared without a trace.

The next morning, the aristocratic officers who had not yet returned from the night patrol soldiers, with some cavalry, searched along the patrol route and quickly found the bodies that had frozen and stiffened, and even the blood had solidified.

He frowned and his face was gloomy. He looked at the bodies carefully and ordered them to be transported back.

He is a knight and was born into a baron family. These are the soldiers he brought from the territory, the private soldiers of his family, and many people even grew up with him as a young man. He came with these people, he wanted to make a contribution, or get a vote. But I didn't think of it. If I didn't get any benefits, I would die so much.

At noon that day, after he arranged some things, he took a few of his own soldiers and galloped to the higher level.

When the weather is going to be late, they arrive in a small town. It was the residence of a Viscount. Like the young knights, this viscount came to the border with his own private soldiers to see if he could get the benefits. Because they have the same idea, they have a good relationship.

The Cavaliers introduced the attack on their patrols, and the Viscount was surprised, and then began to worry - the enemy who was able to kill six experienced patrols at once, if they ran to attack themselves, their defense here. Power may not really be enough.

So he got nervous and used magical props to connect with his superiors—the master who mastered this territory.

The count did not make a fuss about the death of several patrols in the district. In his view, the dead are really insignificant, and the right is attacked by the monster.

Well, it was attacked by the monster. This is a good explanation.

Although the Cavaliers have repeatedly stressed that the wounds on the patrols are absolutely made of weapons rather than magical minions, the Earl of the Great has already made a conclusion.

No matter how the patrols died, he said that they were attacked by monsters, that is, they were attacked by monsters.

The angrily knight couldn't help but drink a lot of wine with the same helpless and scared viscount, and drunk.

They have been drunk until the afternoon of the next day.

When the merchant team and the joint exploration team of the Northwestern Republic finally woke up from the hangover, when they started their work, they got an amazing news from the knights and viscounts who were awakened from the drunkenness.

The Earl was attacked and wounded. A knight who was under his command gave his life. The soldiers killed and injured more than 20 people.